Today I Said A Little Prayer

I have been thinking of the miscarriage I had four years ago. The baby would have been 4 years old, November 27^th. Hard for me to accept that I could have had a child that age. He or she would have been in school by now. How would it had been like? I don’t know. It has been years since the miscarriage, every year comes and goes and I try not to place any thought to it.
Since the day of the miscarriage, I had suppressed all my emotions. I try not to feel anything for it. I was so sad, when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to accept the pregnancy, so for me the miscarriage was good news. Don’t get me wrong, I do love children, but I didn’t want any until later in life, when I was in a stable relationship. When I had worked out some issues in my life and I knew I could provide a child with love.

I look back and remember feeling so relieved that I no longer had to carry that child. His child. After the D&C, I went home from the hospital and slept. The next day I went to work and carried out with my life as if nothing happened. I don’t remember feeling anything. I was in a daze. It was so surreal. If I did, I just worked through it. I tried to keep myself busy, so that I didn’t have to think about it.

Every November, I go about as if nothing. I try not to think about it. I just Thank God that he took it away. Sounds evil, but that is what has kept me somewhat sane.

This year has been different. Maybe that emptiness that I have felt for years is because I am grieving the loss of it. I never allowed myself to grieve. Never aloud myself to feel angry. I have never cried for it. I made myself believe that since it was never born, that I need not feel anything for it.

I have been feeling sad and angry about this. Sad because I loss a part of me. I loss my child. I start thinking about what it would have been like if this baby had been born and I cry. I think of how different things would have been. I wonder if I would have had a baby girl or boy. I have this empty hallow feeling inside. This emptiness that nothing can comfort. No matter how much I cried the emptiness is still there. The anger comes from not allowing myself to feel anything. For being so immature. I am also angry for having felt such hate towards this innocent baby.

Today I said a little prayer for him. I allowed myself to cry for the first time. To grieve my loss. I grieve not having had the chance to hold him. I allowed myself to feel for my baby. I apologized for not wanting to feel for his loss and saying that I didn’t want him. I am not a terrible person, I would have loved my baby no matter what.

A Least You're Alive

     “At least you’re alive.” Someone once told me this. Alive?!! I keep on trying to wrap my brain around this. Yes, I am alive. Yes, I have a whole life ahead of me. Yes, I can choose how to live my life from now and in the future. But can you actually call this “a live”?!

     I get so angry when I think of this, “you’re alive”. I’m alive!! Wow. I am alive, but what kind of life is this?!! I understand, some victims don’t even survive their attack. I did, how lucky! Sometimes I wished that he had killed me. I know it sounds bad, but he killed a part of me that night he came into me. He continued to kill a part of me every single night there after.

   What kind of a life is this, when most of the time I can’t understand me? Some days I am fine, while most are as if living a nightmare. I can’t sleep at nights. And when I do, I wake up from nightmares. Horrible vivid nightmares, that make me physically sick the whole day. I hate feeling scared. Looking over my shoulder all the time. Not trusting anyone. Living with the fear of getting hurt. Sleeping with a knife under my bed, just in case. Not opening the door to anyone in fear that it might be him. Not answering the phone for fear of hearing his voice. Avoiding going out by myself for fear that I might run into him. I am so scared of life. I try not to show emotion, because if I do someone might take advantage of it. If I let my guard done, I will get hurt. If I love, it might get interpreted as I want to have sex. If I smile and laugh, I am having to much of a good time and I don’t deserve to be happy. I am even so afraid to cry, because if I do I am afraid that I will not be able to stop. I’m of afraid of sharing in a loving relationship with my bf. I fear that he will have control over me if I really allow him to get any closer. I feel that he will use what he knows about me against me. Ashamed of what I allowed you to do to me. I don’t eat. Most of the time I’m either to nauseated or I’m just to tired to even want to eat. I feel sick most days. Sick to my stomach. I get horrible headaches, especially when I haven’t slept. There are days that I don’t want to get out of bed. Days that I feel nothing. Numb. I don’t feel happy, sad, angry, or afraid. I’m just there. No feelings. I ask myself, “Am I alive?”. I like this days, because at least I don’t have to deal with anything. Then there are the days that I hate everything. I hate my life, what he has done to it. I hate what I have become. What he has made me. What he has taken away from me. I can never get it back! I hate everything even myself. I hate me for allowing it to happen. For allowing him to manipulate me. For destroying myself because of him. Anger!! Angry at everything, especially at my family. For not protecting and supporting me! For calling me the horrible names. For blaming me. Angry at everything and everyone around me. I am angry at me, for allowing all of what he did defeat me. I am angry that no matter how much help I’m getting I am not seeing any progress. I’m just so fed up! I am tired of living. Living this way!! Living in this nightmare!

    “At least you’re alive.” Is this LIFE?!! I would’ve rather wished that he had killed me that day! At least the nightmare would have ended! I’m slowly dying anyway!!

How Do I Begin To Talk About It?

     It’s been two months since I started counseling. I feel so frustrated, I haven’t seen any progress. My therapist is very nice. She seems very caring. Sometimes I feel that I am just wasting her time. I haven’t talked about what actually happened. I usually just talk about things that are bothering me at that moment. And most the time I am just quiet. I am afraid to say it out loud. I am afraid that if I say it. I wont be able to deal with my emotions. I don’t feel strong enough to do it right now. I don’t want to deal right now. I am not as strong as I thought I was. All this feelings. I am afraid to relive it. As it is, just having to go to therapy makes me physically sick. The day of therapy I can’t sleep, I get up very anxious, my TMJ is aggravated ( my jaw feels as if I was punched), I get palpitations, and I don’t eat that whole day because I am so nauseated. The little I do eat, I throw up. Why do I hurt myself this way? I’ve lived ok without any help. If I feel this bad and I haven’t brought it up yet, how am I going to feel when I do. My nightmares are becoming worse since I started counseling. I don’t understand why.
     How do I begin talking about it? I can say what happened, but having to share my emotions is hard. Where do I start? Do I start from when I was 6 years old, when I was 13 years old, or do I just start when I left at 19 years old and screwed up all my life? How does that work? I don’t want pity, I want help. I want someone to help me sort all this. I don’t want to breakdown.